


Sweet Child of Mine

by bespokenboy



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smut, daddy kink thinly veiled as psychotherapy, top!suho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespokenboy/pseuds/bespokenboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yifan has a problem, and Joonmyun is the only cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Child of Mine

  
Digging into the accelerator, Yifan tries to escape the quiet suburban neighborhood as quickly as possible. His vehicle is a slur against the wet pavement as he makes a sharp turn around the corner. His heart is constricted by the cage closing in on his chest, squeezing his lungs in a chokehold. All he can think about are those delicate fingers that left bruises on his skin the night before and those small, soft lips that kissed the pain away.   
  
He exits onto the highway, where opaque clouds of rain trail in the wake of each vehicle. Fleeting recollections cut through the numb static in his mind. His eyes are dim, and he feels the echoing pang of lost pleasure. But flushing out all other emotions is a resurgence of that hot, heavy shame.   
  
Yifan had agreed to their arrangement without thinking about its larger implications. If he values his dignity and his identity, he will put this incident behind him. He will ignore those sick cravings that have started to claw at his insides ever since Yifan met  _him_. It's a testament to his sickness that he eventually returns.   
  
  
  
  
At the same time each week, Tuesday at four in the afternoon, Yifan reclines on the sofa in that clinically ascetic room where he tries to unsnarl his tangled thoughts for an hour. The room's sluggish ambience always does little to calm his frayed nerves.   
  
"How did your session with Mr. Kim go?" Dr. Kim asks. "Will you be seeing him again anytime soon?"  
  
"No," Yifan responds curtly.   
  
His psychiatrist frowns. "So he wasn't any good?"  
  
"No, he was...good. I just don't think it was the right treatment for me."  
  
In order to overcome Yifan's tendency to repress his anxiety even during his counseling, Dr. Kim had prescribed what he referred to as "regressive therapy". He postulated that a significant part of Yifan's current distress stemmed from childhood experiences in which Yifan was unable to receive feelings of security or unconditional love, especially from a father figure.   
  
"What do you mean by that? Was it uncomfortable for you to confide in a man that way?"  
  
"I-I think so."  
  
With a grim smile, the psychiatrist says, "But you see, Yifan, the purpose of this treatment was for you to surrender your trust to someone whom you believed had the ability to take care of you, to protect you. Make things better, if you will."  
  
"...I know."   
  
"I sense there's a lurking variable in here, somewhere."  
  
"Y-yeah." Yifan can barely answer with the memories of his regressive therapy spiking through his mind.   
  
"Was it the sexual component?"  
  
The hands on his bare chest, his shoulders, pinning him down. Yifan, giving up control to this stranger who promised to make him feel all better.   
  
Noticing that Yifan is too engaged in his own thoughts to answer, Dr. Kim adds, "Yifan, I know that it may feel uncomfortable for you, especially because he's a stranger. A man. But this is a crucial measure to reinforce the other components of your therapy, both with Mr. Kim and with me."  
  
Yifan nods, but what is troubling him isn't the discomfort so much as the way he enjoyed being touched by that man. He had tried to be open-minded about himself and his options, which is why he agreed to this particular therapy in the first place. But he quickly discovered that his concept of himself was completely wrong, and that was what made him the most terrified.   
  
"Will you go back, Yifan?" Dr. Kim asks gently. "You don't have to, if you genuinely believe that it would harm you more than it would help you. But I suspect that this is the most direct, effective way to address your specific issues. We could even remove the sexual component to suit your comfort level. It may water down the efficacy, but still."  
  
"O-okay," Yifan agrees hesitantly. "I'll go back."  
  
Dr. Kim nods and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.   
  
"Excellent, I will book your appointment immediately."  
  
  
  
  
For all Yifan knows, this man could be married with kids. Yifan doesn't understand why he finds that idea so arousing. He presses a shaky finger to the doorbell. Soon, he is looking down into the sweet, dark eyes of a petite-framed man. A man who Yifan knows has the capacity to fuck him carelessly into the next century.   
  
"You're back," Joonmyun breathes. "I didn't you'd actually come back after last time."  
  
He's smiling, a guarded veneer of congeniality, yet his eyes are shadowed in wariness. His fingers are clasped together nervously, an image that Yifan finds dissonant with the memory of what those hands had done to him the last time they were together.   
  
Yifan nods, and Joonmyun ushers him inside with a hand hovering over the small of his back, careful not to make physical contact that might cause discomfort. They sit on the sofa together, not unlike Yifan’s meetings with his psychiatrist. While Yifan stares straight ahead, Joonmyun faces him with his legs folded on top of the sofa’s deep-set cushions. The living room is neutral, with pseudo-hospitable decor. The suburban house is immaculately kept, but it resembles a model home more than one that shelters actual occupants. Yifan wonders if Joonmyun actually lives here, or if it's only a mock-up for the purpose of their arrangement.   
  
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Yifan? I think we may have moved too quickly the last time you were here.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure. I need this. I think this is the only way anybody can help me.”  
  
“But I’m sure there are other treatment options available for you. There’s no way your case is unique within the field of psychotherapy. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and think that this is your only choice, Yifan,” Joonmyun urges him. “You know what’s best for yourself.”  
  
“No,” Yifan refuses. “Only Daddy knows what’s best for me.”  
  
At the mention of the nickname, a sudden transformation overcomes Joonmyun as he begins to slip into his role of dominance. Yifan glances over at him, and his breath catches at the dark look in Joonmyun’s eyes. “If you say so, baby boy,” Joonmyun murmurs.  
  
This time when Joonmyun leads Yifan, it’s with a tight grip on his wrist. The bedroom door is shut behind them with a click, and Joonmyun watches Yifan for a moment as though he's mentally undressing him.   
  
"Take your clothes off for me, sweetheart," Joonmyun commands, unbuttoning his own cardigan. Yifan leaves all his clothing in a crumpled pile on the carpet, while Joonmyun strips down to his jeans. Clad only in tight, dark denim, Joonmyun sits on the edge of the bed. He beckons Yifan to kneel on the floor in front of him.   
  
"Precious darling," Joonmyun murmurs, caressing Yifan's cheek. "Did you miss me?"  
  
Yifan nods silently, leaning into Joonmyun's touch. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek against Joonmyun's palm.   
  
"I missed you too, babydoll." Joonmyun's warmth is suddenly absent from Yifan's skin. Yifan looks up and sees Joonmyun frowning down at him. "But you left me without saying goodbye. That was so naughty of you, wasn't it?"  
  
"So naughty," Yifan repeats. "I need to be punished by Daddy. Please."  
  
"How do you want to be punished?" he asks, tugging on Yifan's hair. "You're a good boy, you get to choose."  
  
"I want you to spank me, Daddy."  
  
"I can do that," Joonmyun murmurs. "Get in my lap, sweetpea."  
  
Yifan quickly scrambles onto Joonmyun's lap. His cock starts to stiffen just from the friction of Joonmyun's rough denim jeans.   
  
"Lift your head, honey."  
  
After Yifan obediently lifts his head, Joonmyun places a pillow on the mattress.   
  
"So you can be comfortable," he explains.   
  
"Thank you, Daddy." Yifan sinks his face into the cushion, and Joonmyun gently trails his fingers across Yifan's unclothed skin.   
  
"Are you ready, my love?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy. I think so."  
  
Without any further warning, Yifan feels a sharp spike of pain on his bare buttock. He accepts the pain silently, gratefully.   
  
"I want you to keep count in your head, okay?"  
  
"Yes, Daddy."  
  
After a few more strokes, Yifan begins to hiss at the sting. By ten, Yifan is squirming in discomfort and getting harder by the second.   
  
"Are you alright, darling?"  
  
"Y-yes, Daddy."  
  
The minutes stretch thin, and each additional smack brings tears to Yifan's eyes. He refuses to let them spill out, but one tear manages to escape. He whimpers out loud by the twentieth time Joonmyun's hand strikes his skin. Joonmyun is a monster in bed, ruthless and relentless in his ministrations. Yifan’s skin is a mosaic of raw pinks, almost unbearably sensitive.  
  
"Almost done, baby," Joonmyun says in a soothing tone that is at odds with how he is manhandling Yifan. "Remember...nothing can hurt you..."  
  
"Nothing can hurt me," Yifan repeats mindlessly. "Nothing can hurt me."  
  
"...Except Daddy," Joonmyun finishes with one final blow.   
  
"E-except Daddy," Yifan blubbers. "Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much."  
  
"Don't thank me yet, my love. We've only just started. Up you go."  
  
Yifan allows Joonmyun to push him off his lap and onto the mattress. His skin is painfully tender, but the cool satin sheets alleviate the burn to a slight degree. However, his cock is still achingly hard and far from obtaining relief. He watches with hooded eyes as Joonmyun unzips his jeans, pushes them down his thighs, and peels them from his calves.   
  
"You're going to be a good boy now, right?" Joonmyun purrs, straddling Yifan's chest.   
  
"Yes, Daddy," Yifan replies shakily.   
  
"I believe you," Joonmyun replies, jacking himself to full hardness while maintaining eye contact with Yifan. "Daddy wants you to choke on his dick. Are you up for it, baby boy?"  
  
Yifan nods and opens his mouth obediently. His lowers his eyes demurely as his lips stretch around Joonmyun's cock.   
  
"You're so good," Joonmyun grunts, fisting Yifan's hair and starting to buck into his mouth. "So, so good. I'm so glad you came back, my darling. I thought you were gone forever. Don't ever scare Daddy like that again, okay?"  
  
Joonmyun's voice is shaky with vulnerability, and Yifan looks up to meet his eyes. Yifan's own eyes are watery from being fucked in the mouth, but for a moment, there's a fleeting brittleness in Joonmyun's eyes. But soon, that fragile look is replaced by a darker one.   
  
"Daddy's going to fuck you now," he announces suddenly. He climbs off Yifan's chest to settle between his legs, but not before kissing him tenderly on the forehead.   
  
Yifan is barely able to regain his breath before he feels Joonmyun's cool, slick fingertips nudging at his entrance. He tenses up on instinct, and Joonmyun presses his cheek against his thigh, kissing a quick peck to the sensitive skin.   
  
"This is the hardest part, babydoll. Be strong for Daddy, okay?"  
  
He pushes one fingertip past the ring of muscle, and then another, stretching him out slowly. Yifan bites his lip when he feels a third enter, and Joonmyun leans up to kiss Yifan on the chin. With his other hand, he slips his fingers between Yifan's, and then he replaces the fingers inside Yifan with his cock.   
  
"Good boy," he purrs. "Taking Daddy's cock like a champ. Doesn’t this make you feel good, baby boy?"  
  
Joonmyun rocks his hips into Yifan, who groans needily. "Yes, Daddy, please. It feels so good. I need your cock so bad."  
  
"Badly," Joonmyun corrects offhandedly. If it had been anyone else, it might have ruined the moment.   
  
"B-badly," Yifan repeats.   
  
"How much do you need it, baby? Tell me, from one to one hundred."  
  
"One hundred," Yifan answers without hesitation.   
  
"Is that right? Good choice, let's do some more counting. Nice and loud so I can hear you."  
  
"One...two...three...f-four..."  
  
Gripping Yifan's waist, Joonmyun thrusts into him, rough and deep. His thumbs press hard in a way that will surely leave bruises. By the halfway point, both Joonmyun and Yifan's breaths grow more labored. Joonmyun's jaw is clenched and his brow is creased in concentration with a drop of sweat trickling down his ivory skin. He fucks him with ceaseless intensity, not holding back even when they're close to one hundred.   
  
Yifan's voice pitches higher, until each thrust is met with a whimpered moan.   
  
"What was that?" Joonmyun asks politely. "Use your words, baby boy."  
  
"Ninety-three...n-ninety-four...ninety-unghh..."  
  
"Close your eyes, darling," Joonmyun instructs, pulling out of Yifan.   
  
Clenching around nothing, Yifan obeys and closes his eyes. Soon, he hears a low moan and feels a warm, thick liquid splash across his cheek. A drop trails down to the corner of his mouth, and his tongue peeks out to lap it up.   
  
"You taste so good, Daddy," he mumbles. When he opens his eyes, Joonmyun is flushed and panting, but beaming proudly down at him.   
  
"Daddy's going to take care of you now, okay?" he breathes, running his fingers through Yifan's damp hair.   
  
“Thank you, Daddy,” Yifan moans.  
  
Straddling Yifan’s waist, Joonmyun reaches down to push two fingers slicked with cum back into Yifan’s entrance. He probes the tight darkness until he finds Yifan’s prostate gland, which he strokes with curled fingers. Yifan whimpers and turns away, pressing his cheek into the mattress.  
  
“Ahh, don’t do that,” Joonmyun reprimands. “You’re going to get the sheets messy.”  
  
He nudges Yifan’s chin with a fingertip so that they’re facing each other again. He leans closer, and before Yifan realizes what’s going on, Joonmyun’s tongue is sliding across his cheek. The hot, wet muscle licks away all the cum splattered on Yifan’s skin, and then Joonmyun slips his tongue between Yifan’s lips. He sucks on Joonmyun’s tongue as Joonmyun continues to jab at Yifan’s prostate, hitting that sweet spot again and again. Yifan feels a building throb in his groin and tightens around Joonmyun’s fingers. Sensing Yifan’s oncoming orgasm, Joonmyun pulls away from Yifan’s lips and leans down to swallow his cock.  
  
Yifan doesn’t stand a chance with the quickening pulse of Joonmyun’s fingertips against his prostate and the feeling of his cock in Joonmyun’s mouth. He reaches the epicenter of pleasure and releases into Joonmyun’s throat with a groan, but the aftershocks still rock his body in seismic waves for minutes afterwards.  
  
Joonmyun reaches for a clean sheet and pulls it over them. His sweat has evaporated, so he seeks warmth by curling into a ball against Yifan’s body. He grabs Yifan’s wrist to drape his arm around his shoulders and rests his head against Yifan’s chest.   
  
“Daddy? What are you doing?” Yifan asks hesitantly.  
  
“Cuddling,” Joonmyun mumbles. “And you don’t have to call me that anymore, Yifan.”  
  
At the mention of his name, Yifan is struck with the sudden realization of who he is and what he had just done. His blood dips in temperature, and Joonmyun feels his body stiffen.  
  
“What’s the matter?” he asks with worry. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“I...don’t know,” Yifan answers honestly. His mind and body are at odds with each other. Physically, he feels invigorated with a deep, dull pleasure pervading every muscle in his body. But at the same time, the knowledge of the role he had just slipped into for the past hour or so does not sit well with either his conscience or his self-concept.   
  
“Do you feel safe, Yifan?” Joonmyun inquires gently.  
  
Nestled against Joonmyun between satin sheets and bathed in soft, suffusive afternoon light, Yifan can’t help but feel secure.   
  
“Yeah,” he replies. “I think I feel safe.”  
  
“Good,” Joonmyun says, smiling up at him. “And do you feel loved?”  
  
He curls a hand around Yifan’s neck, massaging the tension there. He cranes upwards to meet Yifan’s lips with his own. “Think carefully before you answer,” he whispers against Yifan’s lips.  
  
Joonmyun’s lips are slightly parted, and Yifan feels every inhale and exhale, warm against his skin. Yifan closes his eyes and tries to kiss him, but Joonmyun draws back. When Yifan looks at him, Joonmyun is shaking his head. “Answer first,” he says.  
  
Yifan drags his hand up Joonmyun’s side, almost amazed by the realization of how small he is. He flicks his thumb against Joonmyun’s nipple, provoking a flinch and a giggle.   
  
“Well?” Joonmyun asks with his distinct eyesmile lighting up his face.  
  
“Yes,” Yifan answers simply.   
  
He’s not quite sure what it means, but Joonmyun nods approvingly and allows Yifan to kiss him. They lay in bed, holding onto each other, tempted to forget about the rest of the world. Joonmyun is tracing lazy circles into Yifan’s skin when Yifan draws up the courage to ask, “Can I have your phone number?”  
  
Joonmyun looks up at him, surprised. “But don’t you have it already?”  
  
“...What? Dr. Kim never gave me anything except your address.”  
  
“Yifan,” Joonmyun says carefully. “Do you know who I am? Do you know my name?”  
  
Feeling a sudden tightening in his chest, Yifan suddenly realizes, “N-no?” His psychiatrist had never actually told Yifan the man’s full name, just that he had the common family name “Kim”. And when they first met, this man just told Yifan to call him “Daddy”.  
  
Joonmyun shakes his head gently, a sad smile forming on his lips. “Yifan, you make my heart hurt every time I see you. Yes or no, have you ever actually looked Dr. Kim in the eye?”  
  
It’s a phobia that Yifan has carried with him for as long as he can remember. He is just innately terrified of any authority figure, even one that’s supposed to help him, such as his psychiatrist. Yifan has only been able to get by in life through concealing and lessening his fear with tactics such as trying to play a more dominant role or simply avoiding eye contact.  
  
“No,” he whispers, intuitively dreading what the man in his arms will say next.  
  
“Yifan...my name is Kim Joonmyun. Do you know who I am now?”  
  
“But...Dr. Kim wears glasses,” Yifan says helplessly.  
  
“I didn’t think my glasses made me that unrecognizable,” Joonmyun laughs. More seriously, he continues, “I’m truly very sorry about deceiving you. But deception is unfortunately not uncommon within psychology, and I believe it was a necessary measure in your case.”  
  
A frown starts to sink into Yifan’s expression as he begins to lose himself to doubt. Joonmyun kisses him again, trying to focus his attention back to the present.   
  
“Look at me,” he says, placing his hand on Yifan’s cheek. “I know this might have been unsettling for you, but I think that it’ll help you feel better about yourself. And in the end, that’s the most important thing, right?”  
  
Joonmyun looks at him hopefully, but his eyes are a little wild with disquietude. Yifan will have to sort through his feelings about the deception later. He can’t complain, though, about being fucked by whom he now realizes is his hot psychiatrist.   
  
“So is that a yes, then?” Yifan asks. “You’ll let me have, I mean, use your phone number?”  
  
“Depends on what you use it for,” Joonmyun says with a sly grin.  
  
“Come have a drink with me tonight.”   
  
“I don’t drink alcohol,” Joonmyun grimaces. “I mean, I do occasionally, but it never turns out well.”  
  
“Orange juice then,” Yifan suggests. “Orange juice is safe. We should drink orange juice together. You like orange juice, don’t you? Everybody likes orange juice.”  
  
“I like orange juice,” Joonmyun agrees.  
  
Later, Yifan and Joonmyun sit across from each other at a cafe table, each clutching nervously onto a glass of orange juice.  
  
“I feel like I’m negotiating a mob deal,” Joonmyun says suddenly, breaking the awkward tension between them, “not trying to talk about a relationship.”  
  
Yifan nods, chuckling uneasily.   
  
“Obviously we have to find you a different mental health professional. I would recommend looking for a counseling psychologist instead of a psychiatrist, like me,” Joonmyun suggests. “I think that a counseling psychologist would be the most suitable in helping you to deal with your everyday anxieties. What do you think?”  
  
Yifan nods, but he is still visibly uneasy.  
  
“And now that you’re no longer my patient, we can talk about the more interesting stuff,” Joonmyun laughs. “I can sense that you’re too shy to ask, so, no, my relationships don’t typically start in the bedroom and certainly not with those kind of bedroom games.”  
  
Yifan averts his gaze in embarrassment at the mention of “bedroom games”. He glances surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye to see if there are any eavesdroppers listening in on their conversation.  
  
“You’re so adorable,” Joonmyun coos, reaching out to pinch Yifan’s cheek. “I think I want to keep you. And don’t worry, we can still keep playing bedroom games if you want. Do you?”  
  
“Y-yeah.”  
  
“Just a warning though, sometimes Daddy likes being fucked, too.”  
  
Yifan nearly chokes on his orange juice.  
  


 


End file.
